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So let's start with the biggies. The simple facts of life. Why are we here? Why should you care? What is the point of all this struggling and striving and taking arms against an endless dreary sea of corporately packaged playthings. Let me tell you this, my friends. They've got good teeth and they've got nice hair. Their gym worked bodies have been airbrushed for your personal viewing pleasure. You can aspire to the dream, you can look on in lust but you don't get to touch, and that's the simple truth of it. That's the rules of the establishment. You like it, you lump it or you're out on your ear. If you think they won't go through your pockets before you hit the door, you were born rich for the pickings right from the get go. Well, we were tired out there on the factory floor. The beat went on but we looking for a different drum. We wanted to have a bit of fun. We wanted to make some noise. We wanted stimulation not simulation. We liked those dumb old records where the ten second